


Miraculous Random Bullshit

by SaltyVampireFox



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst?, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, miraculous - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 09:12:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17578025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltyVampireFox/pseuds/SaltyVampireFox
Summary: IDK, I got bored. We shall see where it goes, I guess.





	Miraculous Random Bullshit

Marinette

The warm scent of fresh bread hung gently in the air around Marinette as she strolled down the brightly lit hallway. The school was flooded with the buttery light of late autumn, the brilliant flashes of orange in the trees outside catching in the corners of her vision.  
Today was going to be better. All it would take was a few words and she would either be living her dreams or forced to move on. Either way, the months of awkwardness that had begun to stretch toward years would finally be over.  
The locker rooms, draped in bright fall sunlight, warm and familiar, welcomed Marinette, swallowing the soft footsteps of her flats into the bustle of before school chatter.  
“Mari! Over here!” Alya waved vigorously, her ginger and brown hair bouncing with the motion of her arms. For whatever reason, she had abandoned her usual sunset toned flannel for a black T-shirt. The color suited her, bringing out the brightness of her hair and the hazel-amber color of her hair.  
“You still gonna do it then? No more stalling, right girl?”  
“Well, I am ready for it to be over anyway. Today will end one way or another. So of course I am gonna do it.”  
The words were so easy to say, here in the warm brightness of the girl’s locker room, just her and her best friend with no one here ready to hold her accountable. In truth, Marinette was terrified.  
If she was rejected, there was a good chance of her being akumatized. That was assuming that she could even get the words out without tripping over her own words as they struggled off her tongue.  
But it wasn’t like putting it off any longer would make anything better. Because the truth was, talking like a normal human around Adrien was getting harder every day.  
“Well, the bell’s gonna ring soon. Better put our stuff away.” Alya, ever the practical one, even in the midst of her wild schemes.  
The bustle of slamming lockers, murmuring voices and shuffling feet ebbed through the room, punctuated suddenly by the echoing ring of the school bell.  
BRRRING!  
Marinette and Alya, carried by the tide of surging students, moved toward the door, compressing into the tight gap of the door before bursting into the open space of the gym.  
Alya darted ahead, taking the stairs two at a time and reaching the door to Mrs. Bustiare’s classroom. The seats were mostly empty, only a few people having already arrived. Chloe marched into the room, blonde ponytail swinging, hips sashaying in her tight white jeans.  
Same as always. Except that she had chosen to forgo the pollen yellow jacket for one of a dark blue. She looked like a different person. Her hair was less of a gold and more of a white next to the navy color. The lack of her normal blue eyeshadow make her face seem more open, almost kinder.  
“What happened to Chloe? She looks like someone nice.”  
“Well, I was wondering what happened to you. You never wear black.”  
“Do you really have to know? If you care so much, then Nino said I looked good in black. So here I am.”  
“You look really good. I wonder in maybe I should switch it up a little. I do always wear these same clothes.”  
“Well, if you wanna get ahead, I have a pair of black jeans that would go well with that spare jacket of yours in my locker.”  
“Worth a try.”  
“Marinette you do the craziest things to impress Adrien.”  
“What makes you think this has anything to do with him?”  
“Well, let’s face it. I mention that a boy said I look good in this color. Chloe shows up in a dark jacket and we agree she looks good. You are facing the prospect of asking out Adrien and suddenly you want to change the outfit you have been wearing for months. Coincidence? I think not. “  
“Things must be getting bad if I do stuff for Adrien without even realizing it.”  
“Which is why you have to go through with your plan today. Also, take your hair down. Any if you want to get changed before Adrien gets here we will have to be a little late.”  
“I am okay with that. Small sacrifice. I am late half the time anyway. Let’s go!”  
The girls picked up their stuff, stumbling their way down the aisle and across the front of the room, slipping on the waxed, caramel toned floor, their hair catching in the early morning light streaming through the ceiling high windows.  
Attaching a few odd looks from Julica and Rose, they staggered down the stairs, tripping their way into the girl’s locker room. Alya’s fingers blurred on her lock, twirling out the combination. She ripped out the pants, tossing them to a struggling Marinette. Mari extracted a deep green jacket, falling over with the momentum of the freed garment. The jeans landed on her head, sliding down her face sluggishly.  
Alya laughed, a nervous, strained giggle. She whipped the clothes from Marinette’s vision, heaving her to her feet and shoving her toward the bathroom. Mari staggered into the faded grey room, stumbling into one of the stalls. She whipped off her jacket and her jeans, shoving on Alya’s jeans and finishing off the look with the pine green jacket.  
A split second decision, she dragged the hair ties from her pigtails, finger combing her hair into a short, flowing midnight mass around her face.  
“So how do I look?”  
“Awesome! I actually really like the dark colors on you. Just the right amount of edgy.”  
“Okay great. Let’s get to class. We might not be too late if we hurry.”  
Rewind. And they sat in the classroom, trying not to squirm under the teacher’s stony hawk glare.  
“So. Ms. Dupain-Cheng. Ms. Césaire. You are late. I assume there is an excellent excuse but I don’t want to hear it. Marinette, if you are late one more time, I will have to call your parents. You ‘oversleep’ far too often.”  
“Yes, Mrs. Bustier.”  
Marinette could feel her face blazing a brilliant volcanic cherry red. The humiliation was so strong it felt like her entire body was blushing with fire.  
But what Adrien said next made the whole issue both that much better and that much worse.  
He leaned over, his blond hair tousled, his malachite and emerald eyes bright and knowing. “You look nice today, Marinette. You should wear your hair down more often.”  
Nice as the compliment was, Marinette’s redness levels were through the roof. She had gone from cherry to tomato in a second but now she simply looked as though someone had filled her up with boiling water. Her face was so warm steam was probably coming off her skin.  
Oh the sadness.  
Alya was having her own little problem with redness in the desk beside Marinette - the struggle of holding in her laughter had turned her face to a hilarious shade of orange and she looked mildly constipated.  
Marinette sank into her seat, wishing she could just disappear into the caramel colored wood and never been seen again. The humiliation was overwhelming.  
But life goes on.  
Lunch was a surging tide of noise and energy, seething around Marinette and washing away the burn of the morning with it. Humiliating as the situation was, there was always a new beginning.  
But the new beginning just might have been the end.  
“Okay Mari. You have stalled all morning. Time to go and ask him. What do you have to lose?”  
“A lot, Alya. You are so not helping.” Mari could feel another bout of blushing coming on, the heat rising in her cheeks like hot water. There was no way she could get through this without turning red. But maybe she could keep her speech together.  
“Whatever. Get off your ass and go!”  
Marinette stood up quickly, striking a power pose confidently.  
“I am READY for this.”  
Marinette crept over toward the staircase where Adrien and Nino ate lunch, making awkward cartoonish sneaking motions.  
“This is making you way more conspicuous.”  
Backfire. “Hey, Mari! What’s up?”  
Nino greeted her with a knowing smile, causing Adrien to glance over curiously. He looked like an angel to Marinette, his blonde hair backlight by the sun streaming in through the open roofed gym. Marinette felt herself slowly turning red, a flaming blush creeping up her face all the way to the roots of her glossy blue-black hair.  
Adrien smiled, a gentle, almost sheepish look.  
“Go girl! Now or never!” Alya’s muted murmur in her ear tickled the skin on her ear.  
Marinette nodded, bracing herself, letting the blush ebb away, fading into a look of determination.  
Alya slidled over to Nino, grabbing his hand and gently leading him away. He looked bewildered for a moment, before casting a knowing glance and Adrien and Marinette and slouching off with Alya.  
Marinette shifted her weight awkwardly, licking her suddenly parched lips in a nervous flicker of tongue.  
“So I guess it’s just you and me, Mari.”  
Marinette took a shallow breath, sounding winded as she panted out “Sure. I guess it is.”  
“So….” Adrien looked off to one side, seemingly awkward. “Adrien,AlyamademesoIamgoingtotellyoubutIlikeyouanddoyouwanttohangoutsometime?”  
“Sorry, what?” Adrien seemed lost by her muted, garbled confession.  
Marinette turned red, giggling insanely and tried again, stuttering magnificently.  
“Alya put me up to this. She thought I should tell you. That’s why they left. But I like you. A lot. And I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out sometime.”  
“Mari, I would love to hang out, but the truth is I like someone else. I mean, you are a great friend and you are one of the nicest people I know but I can’t really see you that way. You are like a sister to me.”  
Marinette paled, all the blush draining from her fair skin. She suddenly looked like a vampire - if vampires could look like they were about to cry.  
Adrien sighed, coming forward. He put his arms around a stiff Mari. “Look, I am so sorry. And I would love to hang out. I don’t really have a chance with my crush anyway.”  
“No, it’s okay. I get it. I am just… kinda worried about being akumatized is all.” A lie. Pain, hot and shameful, like a knife coursed through Marinette, cutting her open. Not even Adrien’s warm arms could hold her together.  
Marinette could feel the hotness of tears and shame burning behind her eyes and searing in her throat, making it hard to see, hard to breathe.  
Adrien stepped back, pulling his arms away. The air was cold in his absence, chilling her blazing face, cooling her burning eyes. “Look, if Alya asks where I am, tell her I had to go to the bathroom. I need to pee.”  
What a stupid thing to say. Adrien would know exactly why she was going to the bathroom. And he was probably laughing inside.  
She turned, spinning on the heel of her worn pink flats, and, moving with deliberately calm slowness, marched toward the bathroom. It was all she had not to break into a run.  
She quietly closed the stall door, head down, dark hair falling in her face. The silence of the sterilely lit, grey cubicle was all she could see, all she knew. Breathe in, and out. Where were the tears?  
All Marinette felt was a cold, calm stillness, as if she were carved from stone.  
“Mari? Are you alright?”  
“Yeah, Tikki, I am fine.”  
“...”  
“I…. am …. Fine.”  
“Mari? Do you want to go home? I, you, well, you don’t seem okay.”  
“I am mostly just worried about and akuma. Tikki, if worst comes to worst, will you - please - tell Chat to take my miraculous?”  
“If that’s what you really want.”  
“Thank you, Tikki. I.. let’s go home.”  
“Okay. Spots on?”  
“Spots on.”  
Mari, lit with a sudden flash of light, warm and pastel pink, and now decked out in her signature spotted jumpsuit, and vibrant red and black mask, slithered out the window and into the warm afternoon sunlight.  
The rooftops, warm and rough under the fabric of her gloves slipped away beneath Marinette, the balcony above her parent’s bakery coming into view from below.  
She whipped her yo-yo through the air, pulling it tight around the railing and leaping down, landing catfooted on the roof, slipping into her room with a flash of pastel rose colored light.  
The light pastel shades that decked out her cluttered room were familiar, as were the faces of Adrien pasted on nearly every surface. She sighed, feeling the elusive tears come to the back of her throat, prickling in her eyes.  
She reached out for one of the pictures, on she had always found particularly adorable. Ripping it off the wall, she placed it carefully to one side. Tears blurring her vision, swimming at the edges and causing the rest of the world to sway trippily, she removed the rest of them from her walls.  
The impressive pile sat, precarious and strangely unappealing on the corner of her desk. Marinette gathered them into her arms, carefully grabbing an old showbox. Maybe someday, she would hang them back up. Unlikely. It was time to move on.  
Marinette sat on the edge of her bed, head hung, arms limp between her knees.  
She pushed herself off her bed, moving over to the dresser across the room.  
The mirror, clean and clear, reflected a girl in dark clothes. She might have been pretty, with her dark hair and pale, lightly freckled skin, but her eyes were red and the expression of disappointment on her face was actually heartbreaking.  
Marinette hadn’t realized she looked so crushed. She deliberately smoothed out the lines in her forehead, lifting her eyes and smiling thinly. The absolute fakeness of the expression was just as crushing as the depressed, Gloomy Gus look.  
The room was mocking her, bright and colorful, filling with the light of young love and joy. Not horrible, but rather mocking.  
Marinette threw open her closet. The extra blankets folded in the top of the closet, dark and unassuming, seemed perfect. The plain, dark colors, shades of black, brown and grey, representing in the plain sheets and blankets seemed much more fitting. Not broken, but somehow empty. 

Marinette stepped back, admiring the darker colors of her room.  
The smell of quick-dry paint and fresh blankets hung in everything but the dark, relaxing feel to the room was worth it.  
The neat setup of her room was so much darker now. Not black but grey and brown, accented with blue.  
Better.  
There was a thump on the roof, as if a pair of feet had suddenly landed on Marinette’s balcony.  
Marinette poked out her head, glancing around. A dark figure shrouded in black, a tousled mass of blond hair capping off the look.  
“Oh, it’s you. Hey Chat.”  
Even to Marinette, her voice sounded tiny and hollow, as if all the color and life had been drained out of it.


End file.
